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This wasn’t a spanking meant to make me wet. This was supposed to teach me a lesson.
He didn’t spank me quickly, but slowly and methodically. Each smack went deep, spiraling down with a painful ache and settling in my core. My inner walls flexed needily, and I told myself I wasn’t supposed to be liking this, but I did anyway.
There was no one like him back home, no one that would take what he wanted from me and make me feel the things that he did. Even when he punished me, I felt how much he cared for me with every vicious stroke of the switch and each hard swat of his hand.
Knowing that he cared made me even wetter.
When I thought the spanking couldn’t get any harder, it did. My hand snaked around his wrist as he held mine, holding on as his palm peppered my very sore stinging bottom.
“I’m sorry,” I pleaded.
“The next time you think about defying me, I want you to remember what this feels like. I want you to think about how much your bottom is burning and how much harder I’m going to spank you if I have to teach you this lesson again,” he scolded.
“Please! I’m so sorry!”
Despite my begging, he didn’t stop spanking me. It continued with his hand for a long while and when he punished my thighs, my eyes watered at the terribly intense sting. I blinked several times, trying to hold back tears. When the spanking finally ended, I gasped with relief.
My breath wavered at the brutal agony burning across my bottom.
Oh. That hurt.
I wiggled my hips the tiniest bit in an effort to shake out the sting and was instantly reminded of the rough knuckle of wood underneath. I chewed the inside of my cheek and tried to bite back the moan that threatened to emerge, but it slipped out anyway.
The continuous simmer of my punished backside started to fade, only to be replaced by the rampant arousal surging through my veins. My toes curled and my hips shifted, just rocking against the tree enough to tease my clit. My body shuddered with pleasure.
Did he know what I was doing?
His hands released my wrists and I tentatively pulled them forward, curling them underneath my chest and using my thumbs to graze my pebbled and very sensitive nipples.
My clit throbbed harder, begging for his touch. I had no idea why I was reacting this way. He’d just spanked me hard enough to where I almost cried. I should be angry. I shouldn’t be turned on right now.
The jostling of his belt buckle caught my attention and I turned back, opening my eyes wide when I realized that he was freeing his cock.
I swallowed anxiously, squirming on top of the tree trunk. My pussy clenched in excitement.
Was he finally going tofuckme? Was this it?
I’d seen his cock up close. I’d even taken it in my mouth, but despite all that, the size of it still startled me.
Would it hurt when he fucked me?
An even more shameful thought popped into my mind.
Wherewould he fuck me?
I blushed furiously as he moved beside me. I opened my thighs, unsure of what I wanted or even of what he wanted but needing to find out all the same.
“Sir?” I asked.
“You were a bad girl, weren’t you, my Naomi?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I whined anxiously. One of his hands palmed my left cheek, before squeezing hard enough to make me gasp out loud. He did the same on the other side, digging the tips of his fingers into the welts the switch left behind. A fresh wave of pain washed over me.
I loved and hated it at the same time. I wanted him to do it again.
“Look at how wet you are for me,” he observed, and I blushed even harder. His hand reached down, sliding over my wet folds. I lifted my hips excitedly, hoping that maybe he would touch me where I needed him to the most. He didn’t.
“Bad girls don’t get to come.”
